


Pirate Boy

by AwesomeBauer



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alternate Universe - Apocalypse, Alternate Universe - Post-Apocalypse, Alternate Universe - The Walking Dead Fusion, Alternate Universe - Zombie Apocalypse, Alternate Universe - Zombies, Apocalypse, Blood and Gore, Blood and Violence, Character Death, Gore, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Kidnapping, M/M, Necrophilia, Psychological Torture, Torture, Walkers (Walking Dead), Zombie Apocalypse, Zombies
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-09
Updated: 2016-09-09
Packaged: 2018-08-14 03:20:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,160
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7996714
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AwesomeBauer/pseuds/AwesomeBauer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is the story of one Arthur Kirkland, member of the fearless gang simply dubbed The Pirates because of their pirate-like ways of killing, raping and looting, and one Alfred F. Jones, member of a mix matched group barely managing to survive hell on earth.</p><p>What happens when these two encounter?</p><p>Why, a tragic story of love, of course.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

Arthur sighed and smiled at Alfred, "It's almost time, love. Not quite yet, but almost."

_"S'okay, babe. I can wait."_

"But, you've waited so long... I feel horrible for making you wait..."

_"I could wait forever for you."_

Arthur couldn't help but smile some, "I know..."

 

_"Hey hey... Honey, what's wrong?"_

Arthur sniffled, wiping his eyes with his sleeve, "Nothing, Al..."

_"Oh, c'mon... We both know that's a lie..."_

"Heh... You always see right through me..."

_"Mmhmm... You're an open book, Artie. Now, come over here and cuddle with me."_

Arthur smiled and got up, walking over to the couch. He sat next to Alfred and cuddled into him, taking his arm and wrapping it around himself. He frowned slightly.

"You're cold, love..."

 _"Well, yeah... But, you're my personal heater..."_ Alfred leaned on him. Arthur chuckled and pushed him back gently.

"You're squishing me, you oaf..."

 _"Haha... Sorry, baby."_ Arthur blushed lightly and smiled.

 

_"Is it time, yet?"_

Arthur peered out the window between the planks nailed over it, "Not yet, Alfred." He sighed.

_"It's okay... I'm not rushing you... I'm just... excited..."_

"I know you are... I know..." Arthur paused for a moment, turning back to look at Alfred, "I'm... I'm excited, too." He smiled.

_"Maybe tomorrow, though?"_

"We'll see."

_"M'kay."_

 

"Mmm..." Arthur smirked at Alfred.

_"Heheh... You look like you're enjoying yourself."_

"I'm with you. Of course I'm happy." Arthur pecked his lips.

_"Yeah... Same... You're so sexy, Arthur."_

"Oh, really, now?" Arthur raised an eyebrow, "You're the sexy one, Al." He said honestly.

_"No way."_

"Yes way." He chuckled.

_"How about this? We're both sexy."_

"Okay." Arthur straddled him on the bed, "But, you're more sexy."

_"So stubborn..."_

"You know it." Arthur kissed gently at his lover's neck.

_"Hey, Arthur....?"_

"Hm?"

_"Is today the day?"_

Arthur sat up and sighed, "Yeah... It is..." Alfred turned his head to the left, towards the front door of the house. A loud banging was consistent, notifying that someone or something was not going to give up until they were inside.

_"We have company..."_

"I know..." Arthur looked towards the door as well. He shook his head and made Alfred look back at him.

_"We're gonna finish this and then you're gonna do it, yeah?"_

"Yeah." Arthur nodded some as he took his shirt off.

_"Mm, yeah... There we go, baby."_

 

"Everything's ready, Alfred."

_"Awesome."_

Arthur climbed on the bed and sat next to Alfred, "Impatient as always..." He chuckled and cuddled into the younger.

_"I can't help it, Artie!"_

Arthur smiled at him, "There's no more food. Not a crumb. Just as we said."

_"Oh, you know that's not the reason you haven't done this before now."_

Arthur sighed, "Well, I'd have to leave you to go get food... And I don't want to leave your side. Never again."

_"Artie..."_

"Shh, love..." Arthur watched Alfred turn his head to the right, away from the door but towards the heavily bandaged bite on Alfred's wrist.

"No... No, Alfred. I don't want to think about that right now..." Arthur cupped Alfred's cheek and made him go back to looking at him. Arthur's eyes wandered to the new, dark red smear on the pillow underneath Alfred's head.

"Oh, love, you're bleeding again... I'll go get the bandages." Arthur started to get up.

_"No."_

"But- !"

_"Arthur... It doesn't matter... Just do it now."_

"I... Okay. Okay, Al." Arthur went back to his spot right next to Alfred. He looked over to the pounding on the front door.

 _"Don't think about them. Look at me, babe."_ Arthur slowly looked up into Alfred's forever opened, dull but still sparkling blue eyes.

"You're so handsome, Alfred..."

 _"Heheh... Nah... You're handsome, Artie."_ Arthur blushed, _"I love you, Arthur Kirkland."_

"I love you too, Alfred F. Jones..." He gently closed Alfred's eyes as he gave him one last kiss.

_"It's time..."_

Arthur nodded some and intertwined Alfred's cold, dead fingers with his warm, living ones. He slowly lifted the pistol up. He held it up to his head.

 

And pulled the trigger.


	2. Tin Cans

"Whoohoo!" A young blond shouted in triumph.

"Yea, boys! Get'm!" An older man cheered them on.

"Haha! I got a pretty one here, huh? Ooh! A screamer!" Another young man with bizarrely dyed hair shouted gleefully, "Save them pretty lil' lungs for when the real fun starts, bitch."

"You got a good one, Art? I know you're picky!" The first boy looked over to where the fourth man in their small scouting group was standing to find he was no longer there. His eyes drifted to a tent a little ways off and a smirk played across his face as he heard muffled screams drift over to him. The others looked over to the tent with the contagious smirk spreading among them.

"Well, that's just our signal to start!" The oldest in the group declared. The other men grinned and moved quickly to claim tents, keeping strong grips on the struggling women in their hold. They all had tears running down their frightened faces as they were forcibly shoved into tents, having one last glance at their body littered camp. Blood stained the dirt and the clothes of the recently slaughtered men on the ground, but most importantly- the hands of the living, murderous men who had only the one intention of simply pleasure on their minds.

Arthur laid back in the tent, lazily smoking a cigar. He glanced at the unconscious and naked man next to him as he let out a long sigh. He got up and slipped on his shirt, not bothering to button it as he exited the tent. He turned and zipped the tent back up, giving the man inside the smallest fraction to survive in case the nearby dead heard them. Arthur went down his mental check list to make sure he still had each of his hidden knives and guns, not carrying on him much else.

"Get up you spent, good for nothing arses." He barked grumpily at the boys sitting around the camp, sharing the food they had found, "We're heading back to main camp. And for the sake of all things that still somehow remain today that are holy, where the bloody hell is Alistair?"

"Aye, calm the fuck down, limey. It's still light out, dumbass." Tony slurped from his bottle of water noisily. Disgusting. It was as if the destruction of humanity and most of the human civilization somehow affected common decency.

"But not for long, you sodding idiot."

The boy flipped his hair out of his face and gestured lazily to a tent, "Ali's got some stamina, I'll give him that. But as far as I'm concerned, you all can kiss my ass." He muttered the last sentence.

"Doesn't do much for the lack of brains..." Arthur muttered, turning to the only other blond in their small scouting group, "Pass me some of that cereal, boy."

"Aye aye, capt'n!" Peter grinned foolishly, handing the cereal over.

"I'm not your damned captain, boy. I still hate that idiotic gang name and all the terminology that came with it." Arthur ate a handful. Stale. Of course.

"It's still a pretty badass name though. I mean, c'mon! We're _The Pirates_. How fucking awesome is that!?"

"Very, apparently."

"Hey, Everybody's Least Favorite Brit! You on your man period again? I thought you just had it about a week ago! Has it been a whole month already?" Alistair joined the group with a dopey grin on his face. Arthur scowled in disgust.

"Have the decency to put pants on, good God man!"

"Oops." He said as if it was a simple mistake, something that just so happened to slip his mind. He preceded to sit down next to Peter in nothing but boxers, not giving it much more thought. Alistair grabbed a can of peaches and was about to open it before Tony stopped him.

"Don't you dare open up a damn can, fuckin' ginger." Alistair looked up at him with a dangerous glint in his eye.

"The hell did you just call me, you piece of shit?"

"Shut it, both of you, or else the next thing out of your mouths is going to be screams when I shove my blades eight inches up both your arses." Arthur didn't bother to look up as he cleaned his nails with a smaller knife, "Tony's right. We were sent out to scavenge cans and rice and I'll be damned before I let you eat the little that we've found."

Alistair gave a long whistle, "Woah, didn't mean to tarnish the legendary English honor or nothin'..." He snickered and put the can back.

"Oh, don't worry, old chap. You did that the moment they put you in my scouting team." Arthur replied, not missing a beat and sending Peter snickering.

"Fuck the whole lot of you." Alistair grumbled.

"Fuck you, too." Arthur glanced around their small group, "Has anyone found anything useful?"

"They was runnin' low on ammo so this is all right here." Peter nudged a bag with his foot, "Other than that and two pistols, all there was was knives..."

"You gathered them?"

"Yep."

"Good lad. Now, let's get moving. There's a couple lurkers stumbling their pitiful arses over here just beyond those trees right there." Arthur pointed out. Alistair squinted at the living dead, watching them slowly make their way over to them.

"Aye, let's go. My ass is not on the menu today."

"Why'd I have to get put on a team full of fucking stupid limeys... Letting those damn things get that close, the fuckers..." Tony grumbled as he gathered up his things. Alistair went back to the tent to retrieve the rest of his clothing. Arthur clapped his hands a short moment later.

"Alright, everyone ready to go?" Arthur glanced around the camp one more time in case they forgot or skipped over something useful. He turned at a small tugging on his shirt. Peter looked up at him, biting his lip.

"What do you want, brat?"

"Alistair hasn't come out of the tent yet... Jerk."

Arthur sighed and looked over to the tent with his eyebrows furrowed, "Alistair! Are you coming or not? We're leaving!"

There was no answer.

Arthur frowned and cautiously made his way over to the tent. He gently lifted the flap and peeked inside, immediately sliding it back again. He turned to the rest of the group, putting a finger in front of his lips as a signal to keep quiet. He shook his head and began guiding his now three person group back to main camp.

"Is Alistair going to catch up or something?" Peter looked up at him with all the naivety in the world.

"No, lad... I believe it will be us catching up with him, now." Arthur murmured.

Peter tilted his head, "He left without us?"

"Yes.... He left and I don't think he'll be coming back soon, okay, Peter? Don't you worry, if anyone knows how to take care of themselves, it's our big brother." He gave Peter a smile tainted with sadness and looked away before the boy could notice. He rubbed at his forehead, as if he could somehow just rub away the image of Alistair's intestines sprawled out all over that tent. The image of Alistair's blood painting the inside of the tent and the dead woman who was making a feast of his flesh.

He sighed and led the group of now three including himself through the woods, towards base camp. The Englishman hummed a soft song as he navigated his way through the trees in the dimming light. Damn... Night would be upon them sooner than he had originally thought. He kept an eye out for any movement, his pistol in one hand and a knife in the other. The group moved as silently as possible, knowing the dead could come out from anywhere.

All three of them jumped at the sound of a twig snapping and looked all around them, weapons drawn. They saw nothing and continued in their way, moving much faster then before.

The moon was climbing the sky fast and it was already dark by the time they made it to base camp. Arthur bid goodnight to Tony, sent Peter on his way home and made his way to the house in the middle of the neighborhood their larger main group had managed to secure as a base. He gave a nod to the guard on duty and headed inside.

"Long time no see, Kirkland." A man with blood red eyes chuckled, "I trust your little mission was successful?"

"We gathered up 36 canned goods and two medium bags of rice. I hope that's enough to satisfy you, _Captain_." Arthur spat and slammed his pack on the desk, only causing the man to chuckle more.

"What is this hostility you are presenting to me, hm? Did something go wrong while you were out?"

"It's none of your business what happened, Beilschmidt. It's not like you actually care, anyway."

"You're right. I don't care." Gilbert flashed a grin, "Run along, now, Kirkland. I have better things to do than talk to your miserable ass." Arthur huffed and stormed out, heading to his own house.

"Arthur!" Peter greeted his older brother as he walked in, "I have some soup heating up for you!"

"Thank you, lad. I'm going to go upstairs and change into more comfortable clothes." Arthur said wearily and headed up the stairs. He sighed and flopped down on the lumpy bed and stared up at the ceiling. He relaxed for a moment before getting back up and slipping off his clothes. The blond stared at his nude form in the cracked mirror leaning against the wall in the corner of the room. He never cared for his looks.

He had a rather scrawny, pale body and too many scars to count. His green eyes were dull and his hair was matted in places. He needed a shower but with the water rations lately, he figured he wouldn't be getting one anytime soon. He should take Peter out to the nearby lake to clean up a little tomorrow.

Arthur hummed and slipped on a bathrobe he managed to snag for himself from an abandoned hotel a while back. The thing was in excellent condition compared to any other clothing he owned. It was soft to the touch and was a nice, deep green color. He padded back downstairs to rejoin Peter. The fifteen year old boy sat at their poor excuse of a dining table and stared at the front door of the house.

"What's the matter, Peter?" Arthur took a bowl and filled it with soup.

"Alistair, Arthur... He hasn't come home, yet..." Peter said softly, still staring at the door in worry. Arthur stiffened. He was a fool to lie earlier. He just didn't want to scare the young boy and needed them to get back to camp as soon as possible. Arthur sighed and took a seat next to him. Peter looked at him and read the tired expression on his face immediately.

"Alistair's not coming home, is he?"

"No, lad..."

"Why did you lie to me?"

Arthur gave his last remaining brother a sad smile, "I didn't want to loose a second brother today. I needed to get you out of there and keep you safe."

"Oh..." Peter looked down at his own soup bowl with an unreadable expression.

"Eat up, Peter." Arthur gave a tired smile, "There's not enough food around as it is, let alone if you waste some." Peter slowly began eating his soup again and Arthur nodded in approval and ate his own.

"Tomorrow, I was thinking of taking you down to the lake."

"Okay." Peter pushed away his now empty bowl, "I'm going to bed."

"Alright, lad. I'll wash the dishes." Arthur watched him go off to his room before shaking his head.

There were three fold out chairs at the table. Two others were folded up and leaning against the wall. Arthur stood up and made it three with a sad look in his eyes. They were all dead. His whole family. All he had left was Peter, now. He swore right then and there, staring at those chairs, that he would keep his last and youngest brother safe. They used to be a tight group of five, but then first Dylan... Then Seamus and now Alistair.

Six brothers, now two.

No, he would not cry. Stiff upper lip and all that rot. He had to be strong. For Peter.

He cleaned up around the poor excuse of a house before lugging his tired self to bed. As soon as he hit the mattress and closed his eyes, he couldn't will himself to open them again as sleep rushed to claim him.

_There was a bouncing light that darted quickly in and out of rooms. Doors opening. Doors closing. Searching. Searching. Searching for what again? A scream. The light started bobbing rapidly around again. Footsteps. A curse. Now, there was another light. A figure stood before him. The other light moved to blind him._

Arthur woke with a start. It had been a while since he'd last dreamt. He laid in bed and stared absently up at the ceiling, sparing himself only a few seconds to contemplate over the dream before sitting up and rubbing at his tired eyes. He let out a deep sigh and stood.

"Alright, Arthur, you old chap." He muttered to himself, "Time to greet another beautiful day in hell, hm?" A curse from the kitchen alerted him Peter was awake as well. He quickly dressed and went to investigate. Peter was licking away at a bleeding cut on his arm.

"Stop that." Arthur scolded him, "You're not a dog. You'll give yourself an infection." He took Peter's arm and examined the injury.

"I can take care of myself." Peter yanked his arm away and rolled his eyes. Arthur simply huffed.

"I'll disinfect and bandage it when we get back from the lake." He ignored Peter mocking him as he picked up the can Peter had cut himself on while attempting to open, "I see you forgot we have a can opener again." His eyes drifted to the pocket knife in Peter's hands. Peter flicked it closed quickly and shoved it into his pocket.

"Don't patronize me, condescending jerk."

"Ah, I see you've been putting that old dictionary to use. It's good for you to have an educated vocabulary."

"Shut up..." Peter grumbled, "It was the only thing I haven't already read ten times over..."

"Chin up, lad." Arthur fished out the can opener and opened the can, "Oh, peaches, lovely-- Just be thankful we didn't raise you to be a complete idiot."

"Whatever..." Peter straddled a chair at the table and lowered his head. Arthur hummed and divided the contents of the can into two bowls and brought them to the table.

"Don't sulk, now." Arthur took his own seat, "Eat up. I still want to go down to the lake."

"Oh, yes, _mum_. Sure thing!" Peter bit back sarcastically. His older brother gave him a stern look.

"I don't appreciate your sass, boy."

"I don't appreciate your ugly face, old man."

Arthur clenched his fists and slowly released them, "What on earth has gotten into you today?" Peter glared back at him and violently stabbed a peach with his fork.

"You know." He stared at his food for a moment before taking a bite. Arthur sat back and sighed.

"Listen... There wasn't anything I could do-"

"Like hell there wasn't!"

"Peter! He was already dead when I got to him! Look, I'm sorry, okay? If there was any chance I could of saved him, you know I would of taken it. I... I know I'm the last brother you wished to be stuck with, but here we are. I'm trying my best here, okay?" Arthur struggled to keep composed, "When this all started, you were just a newborn. Mum and Dad were already long gone by the time you could eat solid food. You were only a handful of days old when all hell broke loose and we had to raise you the best we could. We did a damn swell job of it, If I do say so myself. Four brothers raising an infant. To this day, I'm surprised you weren't the first to go..." He trailed off and realized he had gotten off track as he fell into nostalgia. He looked over to Peter who had fallen silent.

"I... I'm sorry." Peter slowly whispered. Arthur sighed and rubbed the back of his neck.

"That's alright, lad..."

"I'm just still... angry, I guess... Alistair was more of a dad to me than the rest of you. He gave me my first knife, taught me how to shoot and a whole bunch of other stuff..."

"I know, Peter... I know... He loved you like his own son. He just loved kids in general, to be honest. Children hit his soft spot."

"Alistair had a soft spot?" Peter quietly quipped. Arthur gave a slight smirk.

"He had one for you, for sure. Gave me hell, though, when I was a boy."

"Everyone gives you hell."

"Wise, lad." Arthur shrugged, "Have I ever told you the story of your name?"

"Nah..."

"Well, eat up while I tell you." He chuckled a little as Peter began to eat and began the tale, "Well, as you know, you were just barely born when the dead rose. Mum and Dad were butting heads on a name for you, I believe. When... we had to leave with you... You didn't have a name, so I asked if it was a boy or a girl. Alistair checked you and proceeded to exclaim 'it has a peter!'. And, well... The name stuck." Peter made a face when Arthur finished.

"Thanks, old man. Now, I hate my name." He muttered. Arthur laughed and quickly finished his food.

"Alright, lad. Slip on your boots and so we can go. We smell like a damn nightmare." He cleaned up and waited by the door for his little brother, "Lost them again?"

"No- They're here somewhere... Aha!" Peter put his shoes on and raced out the door, leaving Arthur in the dust. The older man sighed and shook his head with a fond smile before heading out after him at a more leisurely pace. The sun had barely been out for a few hours and Arthur was thankful for not having to battle the deadly heat of the summer quite yet. The 'sanctuary' he lived in was held together by rusty nuts and bolts. It looked like a damned mess, but it was secure and that's all one could hope for nowadays. It was Seamus that had earned trust with a few higher ups and gotten them in with the growing infamous gang. Arthur never cared for the leader, Gilbert Beilschmidt. The albino man just rubbed him the wrong way since they first met. Way too cocky for his tastes and a complete and utter coldblooded bastard on top of that.

Arthur was known to have butt heads with Gilbert in the past so many times it was a surprise the man had allowed him and his family to stay for so long. Arthur mused it was because he and his brothers had shown they were worth keeping. He hoped he'd proven his own worth well enough to be kept around now that there was no more family on Gilbert's good side to back him up. He nodded to the guard and exited the sanctuary's gate. He knew he'd have to at least try to be on Gilbert's good side now. The Pirates were known for their brutality and it didn't stop at outsiders that had the unfortunate experience of crossing paths with them. A member was not simply exiled, no. That would be too simple for the tastes of the bastards. If Gilbert declared a person was no longer a Pirate, they would be subjected to a public flogging then have to 'walk the plank' as onlookers watched. Arthur himself had only witnessed one of these twisted executions when he was a regretfully curious young lad. It took him two years at least to get the image of that man out of his mind. His terrified eyes searching the crowd for mercy as he was bound and tied to a sack of rocks. His muffled scream when he was thrown from the large tree that overlooked a section of the lake. How quickly he was swallowed up by the water.

That was the unfortunate death Arthur wished to avoid. He knew he wasn't high enough on Gilbert's most favorite people in the world list by far to earn the merciful alternative punishment of marooning. At least the old pick up they once had, had finally broken down so there would be no fear of Gilbert's form of keelhauling. Dragged for miles tied to the back of a truck was an experience Arthur did not believe to be very pleasant at all.

He kept a keen eye on his little brother as they made their way down to the lake a short ten minute walk away from the sanctuary. He gave a pleased hum to see they were the only ones there. Unlike the majority of the others, he had dignity and bathing in public was not something he particularly enjoyed. Peter was already stripped and in the water. Arthur, however, took his time and shivered when he finally got into the lake. The sun had yet to heat up the water but he couldn't find it in himself to complain. The cool water was refreshing. The two of them spent roughly an hour cleaning up and lounging in the lake. Arthur found it almost odd that their bathing had not been interrupted once by any dead.

He busied himself with the task of slipping back on his clothes. When he looked up he was startled by a man moving up behind Peter as he was pulling his shirt on. Arthur immediately reached for a weapon.

"Knaves!" He shouted but his vision suddenly went dark as a sharp pain erupted in the back of his head. He hit the ground hard and could faintly hear his brother cry out. What happened next was a blur as he faded in and out of consciousness. He distinctly remembered the sensation of being half dragged, half carried. He heard some gruff voices barking indistinguishable words at each other.

_"-have him?"_

_"...a bit heavy-"_

_"Wait.... -hear that?"_

_"Shit shit! -ove, bastards!"_

_"Too heavy-"_

_"-ust drop him!"_

He was roughly propped up against something then it all went black once again. He was soon jolted awake by frantic hands.

"-ey... You hear me, buddy?" A voice floated in. Arthur blinked his eyes at the blurry image before him. Blond hair... Blue eyes...

"P-Peter...?" He heard an alarmed far away shout before slipping back into unconsciousness.

When he awoke once more, he was laying down in what he believed to be a makeshift bed of sorts. He groaned as he tried to sit up. A pair of hands quickly came to push him back down. He immediately panicked at the contact and lashed out at the person.

"Ah-! Shit, dude!" The man stepped back and clutched his cheek, "Damn you got me good... I think I'm bleeding..." He chuckled and watched Arthur shakily rise to a sitting position. He looked up at the man with panic drenching his very being. That blond hair. Those blue eyes. It was the same person from before. Arthur now had a less scattered mind to get a good look at him. He was tall and on the muscular side. Broad shoulders and sporting cracked glasses along with a fresh cut on his cheek that Arthur assumed he had just made. Arthur concluded he was dealt the lesser hand here. If he tried to make a run for it, this man could surely dominate him in a snap. The man wore a grin and that alone rendered Arthur into fear. The only people he'd seen smile so happily in this godforsaken world had been buccaneers and mad men. This man was no Pirate as far as Arthur knew. The man continued to give him a cheery smile and fish out a small medical kit from a nearby bag. As the man rummaged around in that, Arthur looked around and took in his surroundings.

He was in a house, it seemed. Fairly decent condition after all these years. The window in the room was boarded up and what made Arthur pause in his assessment of what appeared to be a makeshift camp was a large dark red smear of what could only be blood on the wall opposite to him. The man looked up from disinfecting his rather nasty cut and was about to speak until he followed Arthur's eyes.

"Ah, don't get stiff about that, buddy. The house had a couple biters in it." The man spoke calmly, "Now, may I please look at your head? I need to change that bandage and uh... Would rather not have a matching one for the other side." He chuckled and tapped his cheek. It took Arthur a moment to register the words and was surprised at himself for not noticing the bandage wrapped around his head sooner. He must really be out of it... He eyed the man suspiciously but gave a short nod. The man sighed in relief.

"Great. Don't want this to get infected. That would be no good." The man hummed and began to unwrap Arthur's head, "It appears you hit your head hard on something. Good thing you got found by Doctor Jones here." The man laughed at himself, "Well, I'm not really a doctor but I was studying to be a nurse when shit hit the fan--"

Boy, was he a chatterbox. He just kept going and going as he cleaned and redressed Arthur's wound. Arthur quickly came to the conclusion he was annoying as all hell. He must of been a lone survivor to be this talkative.

"Oh, yeah, anyways I forgot to introduce myself! My name's Alfred Jones. How about you, buddy?" Alfred gave him another bright smile to which Arthur returned with a glare, "No? That's alright, then. Kiku took like a month, I swear, to hold a decent conversation with me. You'll warm up eventually. I'm perfectly content with calling you 'buddy' until then." Arthur rolled his eyes. Alfred stood up and prepared to leave the room.

"I'll go get you a bowl of soup. You must be hungry. Just hang tight and don't go anywhere." Alfred opened the door but paused at a gruff voice.

"The name's Kirkland. Arthur Kirkland."

Alfred smiled once again- _boy, he was just all smiles wasn't he_ , "Nice to meet you, Arthur."


End file.
